


Hallelujah

by BrokenWings0712



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bonding, F/M, One Shot, Sex, Smut, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14752841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenWings0712/pseuds/BrokenWings0712
Summary: Basically I was jamming to some Station Breaks and got inspired by this song. This one verse has been haunting me, and I had to write it down.





	Hallelujah

Sam moved silently across the wooden floorboards of the run down cabin. He had to get it done fast; there was no way he was quitting now. A creak from the left drew his attention to a half-closed door with peeling white paint, and he froze, his breath coming in measured puffs of fog in the pale light reflecting through broken windows. The younger Winchester waited a measure of ten heartbeats before slinking forward and gently pushing the door the rest of the way open with one hand while the other gripped the handle of his gun. He threw one last glance over his shoulder at the rest of the house before moving in. 

The room was empty save for an antique wash basin on a table, complete with porcelain pitcher and moth-eaten towel, and a wrought iron bed topped with a rotting mattress. Hazel eyes scanned the corners for the source of the sound, but the only thing Sam found was rodent droppings and an abundance of spider webs. Sighing, he straightened and ran a hand over his hair while simultaneously dropping the gun to his side. He’d later realize that had been his first mistake.

A soft click caused every muscle in the man’s body to tense, and a woman clucked her tongue behind him. “Never took you for stupid, Sam,” a husky voice said, “but here we are.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he told her while tightening his fingers.

“Ah! Drop the gun and kick it away.” 

Damn her, Sam thought. Her sharp eyes never did miss anything. He started to move into a crouch, one hand held high above his head while the other placed the gun on the floor. He hesitated a second too long while there, and the barrel of her gun was being pressed to his skull. 

“Push it away,” she reminded him. “Now.”

“You really think this is going to work?” he asked while scooting his only weapon away. 

Sam waited a couple of beats, and then, “I’ll take my chances. Things are looking pretty good from where I’m sitting.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Sam licked his lips quickly before continuing. “You don’t want to do this, Rosie. Not really.”

“Don’t I?” she asked, her voice wavering. Sam closed his eyes and pictured her plump lower lip trembling as she fought to maintain her tough demeanor, but he knew it would slip. She never could keep her walls up around him. Rosie’s voice dropped to a whisper, another attempt at hiding her emotions. “You have no idea what I really want.”

Keeping both hands raised and moving at a snail’s pace, Sam shuffled around until he could finally face the woman. She looked just as lovely as the first time he saw her, all long limbs and pale skin, golden tresses pulled back into a loose ponytail at her crown. She was crying that night, too, he remembered, her pink cheeks glistening with fresh tears when they locked eyes, terrified green and cautious hazel. “Don’t I?” Sam echoed.

Rosie’s hand shook, but she clenched her jaw, determination flashing across her features. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You were never supposed to know.” She gestured towards his chest with the gun and shouted, “Why did you have to follow me?!”

Sam flinched at the sudden move but kept his voice calm. “Why did you have to leave?”

“I didn’t have a choice, Sam..”

He held her gaze and lowered his hands inch by inch as he spoke. “You always have a choice. You had a choice that night I found you on the roof. You could have run, but you didn’t. You came back with me. Why?” 

Rosie scoffed. “You caught me half-naked and still dripping wet! Where was I supposed to ‘run’ to, hmm?” She shook her head and sighed, relaxing her arm a fraction. “You and your brother had destroyed the entire coven. You should’ve just killed me when you had the chance.”

Her words sent a pang through Sam’s chest. He very clearly recalled that night, the case that led him to the woman currently holding him at gunpoint. He and Dean had tracked down a coven of witches that were wreaking havoc on a small town north of Dallas, and they’d meticulously worked their way through the old farmhouse until they had taken out each and every witch there. It had been Dean to suggest Sam check the roof while he headed down to do a final check in all the rooms. There were thirteen witches in all, and he had a nagging feeling they’d missed one. 

When Sam crept out onto the ledge of the roof, he immediately switched off his flashlight—the moon was plenty to go by, and it left one hand free to help him work around the next shingle-covered slope. He wasn’t expecting to come face to face with a terrified young woman, and he wasn’t expecting to trust her so easily, but he did, and he allowed her to go back to the balcony and finish pulling on her clothing while he called out for his brother. Of course, Dean didn’t trust her one bit. He insisted on killing Rosie, too, but Sam wouldn’t have it, and he finally convinced the elder Winchester to put her in cuffs and bring her along instead. 

They kept her in the bunker’s dungeon at first, and she didn’t say much, but then Sam got her to eat, and he got her to open up a bit. Turns out, those other witches had forced Rosie to join them, and they threatened to kill her when she tried to leave. Dean thought she was lying, but Sam knew otherwise, and over the course of a couple of weeks, he slowly built a friendly relationship with her. It started out as just Sam doing the talking, but once he got to talking about his favorite books, Rosie couldn’t seem to shut up either. Soon Sam was bringing her stacks of books to read, and they discussed each one for hours on end. It wasn’t until she knew a spell to counter a curse placed on the brothers that Dean finally allowed her out of the dungeon.

“You’ve gotta keep an eye on her, though,” Dean told his brother. “If she slips up, it’s on you.” 

Sam gladly took on the responsibility. He knew Rosie now, and she would never do anything to hurt them. They went everywhere together. From his morning jog to the grocery store and even a few hunts, Sam and Rosie were practically attached at the hip. She even saved him a time or two. 

Of course, it’s nearly impossible to spend so much time with someone and not develop feelings for them. 

It started out innocent enough, Rosie’s lingering touch or the brush of Sam’s fingers along her spine as he passed by, but it soon bloomed into much more. Several times, Sam caught Rosie staring at him as they researched the latest case, but she was always quick to avert her gaze as a blush colored her cheeks. Sam found he, too, had trouble concentrating on more than the sway of her hips as she walked or the soft curve of her neck as she stretched her arms above her head. They both tried to shrug off what was building between them, but what they had refused to be ignored. 

It was movie night in the bunker when things finally came to a head. Dean had passed out in his recliner, head thrown back and mouth wide open, halfway through The Battle of the Five Armies, and Cas had carried a sleeping Jack to his room, but Sam and Rosie were determined to stick it out til the end. They were snuggled together under a well-worn quilt, Sam’s arm slung over Rosie’s shoulders as they munched on the remainder of the popcorn, and it was a fleeting glance that turned to a lingering stare, a laugh that faded into a barely there smile, and before he could second guess himself, Sam was capturing Rosie’s lips with his own. 

It wasn’t long before the chaste kiss deepened, and soon they were gasping into each other’s mouth. Sam’s hand drifted up from Rosie’s hip to her breast, and he cupped it gently, swallowing her moans of pleasure. She threw a leg over his lap, and Sam pulled back a fraction of an inch, a silent question in his eyes. Rosie nodded once, and Sam stood before pulling her up with him and led her back to his room.

As soon as the door was locked behind them, Sam’s lips crashed into hers with a ferocity he hadn’t felt in years. He wanted her, needed her, and he had to have her beneath him in his own bed. Rosie gasped his name, and Sam picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he pressed her back into the wall. He ground his hips into hers and used the leverage to rip his t-shirt over his head. He smirked as Rosie’s eyes widened—yeah he knew he looked good, but seeing that expression on a woman never got old—and she tentatively reached out to run her fingers over his collarbone.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “This can’t be real.”

“I sure hope it is,” Sam retorted, “because I’d hate to wake up and realize this was all a dream.” He punctuated his sentence by carefully removing Rosie’s shirt and dropping it on the floor while latching onto the swell of her left breast and running his tongue down into her cleavage. She threaded her fingers in his long hair, and Sam took that as a sign to continue, so he made his way up her neck while spinning around and walking towards the bed. 

He dropped her onto it with a chuckle and hastily removed his pants and underwear while Rosie did the same. Once she was laid out bare before him, Sam couldn’t help the jump his dick made at the sight. Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe her, but sinful did come to mind as she sat up and took him in her mouth. Sam groaned as she swallowed around him, his hand coming up to rest in her blonde tresses while she worked him over with her tongue. He couldn’t take his dark eyes off of her, and pretty soon Sam had to pull her off of him. He didn’t want it to be over just yet.

Sam crashed his lips into Rosie’s again, letting his tongue probe deeper, tasting every inch of her mouth as he lowered her back down onto the bed, settling between her thighs. His calloused hands roved over Rosie’s skin, memorizing everything about her as they slid towards her core. His fingers hovered there, his eyes once more asking permission, and Rosie grinned before gripping his wrist and pulling his hand closer. His long fingers ghosted over her folds, taking their time before finally slipping inside. Rosie moaned as he curled his fingers within her, and she couldn’t help but thrust her hips up to meet his hand as it rocked against her.

“Sam,” she panted while her walls tightened around him. “Sam, I need you.”

“Not yet,” he whispered, voice dripping with lust. “I want to see you come undone, Rosie. Tell me what you want.” He doubled his efforts and let his thumb rub circles into Rosie’s clit.

“You! Sam, I want you, please!”

Sam released a shaky breath and fought to maintain control. “Come for me.”

Rosie threw her head back against the mattress and cried out as she clenched around him, but Sam wouldn’t relent, working to keep her high on the orgasm, and shifted so that he was kneeling between her legs. He replaced his hand with his dick in a flash and pulled Rosie up to meet him as he sank into her. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, and Sam took the opportunity to kiss her again as he pounded into her. Rosie’s nails dug into the skin on Sam’s back, but the pain urged him on, driving him deeper. She was still so tight, right on the verge of her second orgasm, Sam was sure of it, and he dropped his forehead to rest in the crook of her neck. He had to hang on just a little longer…

“Sam.” 

It was barely a whisper, more like a prayer on her soft lips, and Sam jerked back up to look at her, his hips slowing to a more gentle pace. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“God, no. Sam, please don’t stop!”

If her body didn’t kill him, that voice was sure to.

Sam resumed his punishing pace, the sound of flesh slapping flesh filling the tiny room, and he laved one nipple while giving the other a sharp twist before moving down to work her clit once more. Rosie shuddered beneath him, and Sam couldn’t hold back the growl that ripped from his throat as he pumped into her once, twice, three times, filling her up with every drop of his cum. His arms shook, and his chest heaved as he kept himself from collapsing atop her small frame. Rosie smiled softly up at him and ran her hand from his cheek up into his hair. Sam planted a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist, delighting in the way she clenched around his softening cock once more. 

“That was amazing,” Rosie whispered. “Why on earth did we wait so long?”

Sam chuckled and captured her mouth again before whispering against her lips. “I have no idea.”

That had been three months ago, and Sam didn’t regret anything, but he had to know, had to understand why she had decided to run now.

“You know I couldn’t kill you then anymore than I could kill you now,” he told her.

“Sam…”

“You’ll have to do it, Rosie, because I can’t—” Sam bit his lower lip and closed his eyes as he summoned the courage to be honest with her. He turned fierce eyes back up at the woman, and his voice rang out in the otherwise silent house. “I will never stop looking for you. Whatever this is, whatever you’ve done, we can fix it, but you have to come with me.”

Rosie dropped the gun and bent down to press her lips against the man’s in front of her. She threaded her fingers in his long hair and sighed into his mouth. “No,” she breathed.

Sam growled and surged forward, wrapping his long arms around Rosie’s body. He wasn’t ready to give her up, not yet, and he’d do whatever he had to do in order to keep her. “You can’t leave me, Rosie,” he murmured against her neck. “Not yet, please.”

She arched against him and sighed. “I can’t stay, Sam. It’s not safe.”

Sam’s body went rigid, and he raised his eyes to meet hers. “What do you mean ‘not safe?’” he asked slowly. This was the first time she’d hinted at something other than her own feelings being the reason behind her leaving. Rosie’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times before she finally looked away. Sam turned her face back so that she had to look at him, and he asked again. “What’s really going on here?”

Rosie ran her hand down the side of Sam’s face, and he leaned into her touch, letting his eyes drift closed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before everything went black.  
_____________

Sam awoke a few minutes later to a buzzing sound near his ear, and he instinctively tried to flinch away from it, but several thick ropes across his chest kept him from moving too far.

“Be still,” Rosie said softly. “I don’t want to nick you.”

Sam blinked heavy lids a couple of times as he fought to maintain consciousness. “What have you done to me?”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me go,” she explained as the buzzing continued, “so I used a spell to put you under. It’ll wear off soon.” 

Sam felt her fingers thread through his hair as she spoke, and it was then that the buzzing sound made sense. “What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted. “Get those things away from me!”

Rosie sighed and gripped his hair more forcefully. “I need it for the spell I’m about to perform, Sam. It’ll grow back eventually.”

“Spell?” Sam spit. “You need all of my hair for a freaking spell?! Are you insane?!”

“Not insane,” Rosie muttered as she ran the clippers across his skull. “Just thorough.”

Sam’s breaths were coming in sharp pants, his eyes were big as saucers, and his mind whirled as he tried to figure out a way to escape. Eventually the buzzing stopped, and Rosie walked around him, bowl of hair in her hand, and started assembling the other ingredients for the spell she was about to perform. “Why?” he gasped when she refused to look at him.

“You have to forget me, Sam. You have to forget we ever existed.” Her green eyes flicked up to meet his briefly, and he thought he saw tears brimming to the surface before she turned back to her work.

“I don’t want to forget us, Rosie! Please, just let me help you!”

Her head shot up, and Rosie’s eyes stared at the door. “Shit,” she muttered. “I don’t have much time.”

“Time for what?” Sam questioned. “You’re not telling me anything.”

The young witch began mixing all kinds of powders and herbs into the bowl with Sam’s hair, and he watched as she started chanting in a language he’d never heard, her hand hovering just inches above the bowl and eyes intent on the door. A scratching sound came from the other side of the old wood, and it was then that Sam noticed the line of black dust across the floor. 

“Rosie,” Sam gasped. “What have you done?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” Tears were now streaming down her cheeks, and Sam fought harder to escape his bonds. “My sister was going to die, Sam, and I, I couldn’t do anything about it. How was I to know she’d get in a car crash three months after the docs released her?”

“Why didn’t you say anything? My brother and I, we could have saved you.” Sam was begging now, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t about to watch someone he loved die, not again. 

Rosie shrugged and sighed. “You can’t help me, Sam. No one can. I just figured I’d enjoy a little happiness before it was lights out, ya know?”

The door was now rattling on its ancient hinges, and Rosie squared her shoulders before picking up the bowl. She scattered the ingredients in a circle around Sam’s chair as she repeated the chant from earlier, and he continued to beg her to let him go, but she ignored him. She had a job to do.

A fog slowly settled over Sam’s brain, and he tried to fight it off, but the fog was winning. The last thing he remembered was Rosie leaning down to kiss him one last time.  
_____________

“Sam! Hey, hey, hey, Sammy! Come on, man, you gotta wake up. Sam!”

Sam cracked open his eyes to stare into the worried face of his big brother. “Dean?”

Dean immediately relaxed and gathered Sam in a tight hug. “Thank God,” he breathed. “You scared the shit outta me.” He set back on his heels and started cutting through the rope that bound his baby brother to the rickety kitchen chair. When the last one was removed, Sam fell forward into Dean’s arms, all of his strength having been zapped by some unknown force.

“What happened?”

Dean paused in helping his brother to his feet. “You don’t remember?”

Sam shook his head. Everything was fuzzy, blank. The last thing he knew, he’d been asleep in his bed at the bunker. “No, I can’t remember anything.”

Dean blew out a long breath and seemed to debate something before licking his lips quickly. “You, uh, you called to tell me you’d caught a lead on the witch we were hunting, but then the line cut out. From what I can tell, she was trying to cast a spell on you when she got ripped to shreds by a hellhound.”

Sam looked over the destruction in the room around him. Everything was destroyed save for the chair he’d been strapped to, and a young blonde was laying in the corner, her abdomen in bloody ribbons. His eyes went back to the circle around his chair, and he squinted as he looked closer. “Wait a second, is that…?” His hand flew to his head, and Sam gasped. “What the hell?!”

“I don’t know, man,” Dean chuckled. “I’m guessing she needed it for the spell, but then again, maybe she was just tired of looking at it.” His smile faltered some, but he quickly recovered and patted Sam’s shoulder. “It’ll grow back in no time, Sammy. Now let’s get you home.”

Sam sagged but nodded, and Dean half-carried his brother out to the car. He couldn’t shake the familiar feeling he got when he looked at the witch, but he swore he had never seen her before that night. He didn’t know how Sam had connected her to the case, but he shrugged it off and started Baby’s engine before pulling out of the drive.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. I'm a terrible person for not warning you that I intended on cutting Sam's hair, but it was just too much fun.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
